It doesn't hurt
by SnakeMistress3
Summary: Hermione rethinks her life when someone murders her parents during the summer of her 6th year. She finds her purpose, the answers to many questions, but can she find love?
1. Carrying your whole life in a shoe box

When she walked into the door of her home and found her parents laying on the floor in front of her, dead, she walked calmly to her room, wand drawn and shut the door. A single tear rolled down her cheek and her breathing faltered for a moment. She knew that she should just leave, that she should just walk out the door and tell someone, but she needed to at least have the things that she loved with her when she left, because she knew she wouldn't come back. She turn to her trunk that she used for school and opened the lid. With a wave of her wand books began to fly from the shelves and piles on the floor, shrinking as they came closer and landed into the trunk. The closet door flew open and clothes began the same trip, the same dance to join the miniature books. From under the bed more books and board games levitated and worked into the shrinking waltz.

Hermione stopped to stare at those boxes. Her parents and she use to play together every Friday night during the holidays that she came home. As a family they use to eat hot cookies or brownies that she and her mother baked earlier in the day. Together, they had read aloud from some of shrunken books after the games they so loved. Monopoly, bingo, dominoes-all of them reduced to the size of a match book and settled into the trunk. As soon as the last disappeared over the edge and hit the bottom, Hermione snapped back to the task of sending the rest of her room into that trunk.

It didn't matter to her that she was using magic and would get into trouble. It didn't matter that her parent's murderers could be waiting for her in the house or waiting for her to leave so they could follow her to the headquarters of the Order. Packing everything she could was the only thing that mattered to her.

While the contents of her room swirled around her, most of it tiny now and in the trunk, she ran to her parents room and sent it into the same frenzy. Jewelry, clothes, books, perfumes, colones, shoes, the tv, mirrors, bed sheets, pictures-all of it started a line towards her room and quickly joined the tornado that became thinner as they flew into that trunk. The bathrooms were next, followed by the living room, then the kitchen. The house was almost empty, except for the occasional curtain and drape, and her parents laying on the floor.

Hermione shut the lid to the trunk and shrunk it to the size of a shoe box. Calling Crookshanks to her and putting him on a leash to keep him from running away from her, she walked to the living room. She bent and placed a kiss on the cheek of her mother and father.

"I'm sorry this happened," she whispered hoarsely, "I promise that I'll make you proud, and I'm going to start a family again, and I'll find out who did this to put them into Azkaban...I love you."

She walked out the front door without a look back, leash on her wrist, her trunk under her arm, and her wand in the opposite hand. She wasn't going to take the chance of anyone finding the Order. Even in this state she knew she couldn't risk it. She needed to go to the ministry...but if she did someone was bound to think it was she who had performed the curse that had killed her parents because she had taken the contents of her house with her before going to anyone. She could go to Hogwarts and talk to Dumbledore but he'd have to go to the ministry. She couldn't not do anything about it. That would just be more suspicious. She would need a place to stay, though, without question. The house was just too creepy to stay in, and was far more dangerous then the ministry at the moment. Molly Weasley would never leave her alone if she knew what happened and the last thing Hermione needed was Ron staring at her like she was a porcelain doll underneath the feet of a bull.

Once Hermione got to the end of her side walk she held out her wand and called the knight bus. She climbed the steps, ignoring the driver's merry greetings and only replying to tell him to take her to Hogsmead. It wasn't something that she should have thought about any way. Somehow, Dumbledore always managed to make things better. He always managed to help Harry and everyone else. So he could help her. She sat up in a bed in the back and stared at a the few people sleeping soundly, waiting to arrive at their destination. Thinking to herself, she knew that no matter what everything was going to be okay. She just needed to talk to Dumbledore. That's all she needed. And sooner or later, all the wrongs would become right again.

She was going to make sure of it, for her parents.


	2. Escape the watching

Dumbledore looked over the top of his half moon spectacles, taking in her unpleasant appearance as she sat uncomfortably in a seat in his office. Thankfully for Hermione he had just been leaving the Three Broomsticks when she walked unsteadily down the steps of the Knight bus, trying to keep Crookshanks from tripping her as she went. She knew she looked a mess then and even worse now, as dark circles pointed out her need for sleep, she was wearing the same jogging clothes that she had left the house in, and she had been pulling at her hair in a nervous gesture, as she ran disastrous scenarios through her head. Most of them ended with the blame being placed on her, which landed her into Azkaban which meant her parents' murderer was roaming free while she rotted away in some cell. Dumbledore didn't look as if he'd do that, but the sparkle in his surveying eye was gone.

Finally he said, "I'll need you to go down to the ministry with me, if you don't mind. They'll use a truth serum on you, so I do hope that you've had a bit of something to eat, else your stomach might not agree with you later."

Realization dawned on her. She was a witch and the ministry was a magical institute that used the best of means to get the answers from people. Even if they had wrongfully sent Sirius away, there was no way they could wrongfully accuse her with the sudden advancements in information extraction. She had worried herself into this queasy state because she had been to much in shock about her parents to even think that they would know she was telling the truth. Relief still didn't come completely. A feeling of dread had just slowly ebbed away.

She shook her head before saying, "No, I've had nothing to eat since this morning, but the faster we report to the ministry the better." She paused then began again, "I need to tell the story one last time so I can stop worrying about having to relive it."

He nodded, and the gleam returned to his eye, as if it had been there, lurking below the surface of the watery blue.

"I am proud to see that you've kept your head about you," he spoke as he pulled the back of floo powder from the mantle place, "After this, I'd like to talk to you more about what you're going to do, if that's alright?"

"Yes, sir."

He threw the powder into the fire and shouted, "Ministry of magic, Prime Minister Fudge's Office!" and was gone in a flash.

Hermione followed suit and found her self racing through the floo system until the moving stopped and standing in the fire place of Fudge. Dumbledore had already dusted himself off by the time she stepped out and did the same. Fudge was staring, mildly interested, but at the same time annoyed by the sudden intrusion.

"Miss Granger has some information that you may find a bit stressful, but needing attention immediately." Dumbledore nodded in her direction after he finished his announcement.

She hadn't really thought of what to say. If hadn't occurred to her that she would be the one speaking to the glaring little ball of half wits and old wits. What was she supposed to say? Fudge cleared his throat, looking at her expectantly. There really was only one thing to tell him, but how to word it? His eyebrows knitted, almost closing the gap between them and his lips thinned in a line of impatience. She obviously had little time to think it over any more.

"My parents were murdered,"she couldn't stop the words from coming out, "I came home and found them laying on the floor. They seemed to have been cursed with an Unforgivable."

Fudge's eyes twitched for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something to the bushy-haired girl, before the door to his office swung open. In strolled, Malfoy senior, his cane grasped in his left hand by the silver snake head. His eyes moved from the fat little man sitting behind the desk that was twice as wide, to the headmaster and then finally to Hermione. His mouth turned up on one side for a second before he returned his gaze to the head of the Ministry and England's magical world. Fudge seemed to duck his head just a little as Lucius stared at him with a ghost of the Malfoy smirk that was almost permanently on his lips.

"I do hope," he began in a cold but amused voice, like the one belong to a future serial killer that had just tortured a puppy to death, "that I am not disturbing anything."

His eyebrow raised as he looked back towards the duo standing before the fireplace. His cold steel eyes danced with something that seemed to be haughty pleasure.

Hermione felt herself frown and ball up her fists and had she not such incredible will power, she would have lunged at him that moment and fought to the very death, most likely her own. She stared back, unflinchingly bold. She didn't break the eye contact until she turned her head to the sound of Fudge's voice.

"Why, Lucius, Professor Dumbledore was accompanying Miss Granger while she reported the unfortunate death of her parents, but," he turned from Malfoy to stare at Hermione with his eyebrows raised, "she believes that it was the Avada Kedavra curse that caused it."

Lucius looked from Hermione to Fudge, that award winning cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Hermione could feel her heart beat speed up at least ten fold. All she could think about was that it had been him who had probably cast that curse. That it had been him who had helped kill her parents in cold blood, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had no proof and even in the wizarding world they would not be so willing to apply truth serum to someone on one person's allegations alone, much less to someone with as much influence and power as Lucius Malfoy. Even in this world of wand waving, money and connections got you everything.

"Does Miss Granger have a medical licence?" Lucius said cooly, adding a slight mock concern to his voice.

Hermione shook her head, but became more enraged. He was just trying to make her seem like a young and stupid girl. A young and stupid Mudblood. And in Fudge's eyes, she knew she was.

"Well, then, how could you diagnose the cause of death?" He said, almost bored with the whole thing, "Could they not have died of some nonmagical cause, like a heart attack, for example?"

Hermione could hold her tongue no longer at this, "Both my parents at the same time? I highly doubt it! Besides that, I don't think a heart attack could cause the dark mark to be burned on to their forearms."

Fudge's eyes widened once more, and he slightly gasped. His face was turning purple in anger at this new information. He just didn't want to believe that the world was in danger from Voldermort, even though they had caught- and released- a large number of death eaters months ago. They hadn't kept them because of course the ones that held high positions in the ministry had pulled the strings to help them out. The whole thing had been reported as the results of a strong controlling curse that was never disclosed.

"Well, that certainly is sad," Lucius's voice as cold as an iceberg, colliding into Hermione's ears, "Are you certain that Miss Granger didn't place it there to stir up trouble?"

She stepped forward, hands clinched into the tightest of fists.

"I do think," Dumbledore said as he placed a calming hand on Hermione's shoulder, "that the Department of Justice would like to question her while she is under the influence of a truth serum."

Fudge hesitated a minute as the old wizard turned his blue sparkling eyes towards him. In a moment, though, he got on his feet and nodded quickly, in short jerking motions. He waddled as fast as he could towards the door. It seems that he'd been eating many a late night snack, maybe in an attempt to calm his nerves. He held the door open and Lucius nodded before remarking that he'd return to discuss his business another time and that he did hope Hermione would be 'able to cope with her great lose'. He swept out the door and they could hear the heels of his shoes clicking on the hard marble floors. Dumbledore lifted his hand off of her shoulder and walked out the door, still held open by Fudge. Hermione followed him out, glancing at Fudge with frightened eyes as she walked past him.

Walking through doors, down stairs, up stairs, across busy and empty hallways, and one ride in the elevator later, Hermione was in the Department of Justice and was being handed different glowing potions to drink. After reliving the story in full detail and explaining why she waited so long to report to someone about twenty times, she was released. They had wanted her to go with them to the house, so that she could tell them if anything had moved since she had been there, but Dumbledore seeing the sick green tint of her face, insisted that she leave with him.

A week afterward they called her back, this time to identify the bodies as really her parents. They laid on metal tables in the center of a dark stone room. The air was cold and smelled of sadness and death. Hermione took one look at the faces, then pull the drape that covered her mother further down so that her arm was exposed. There it was. The skull wrapped in the body of a hissing snake who seemed ready to strike at Hermione, even though she knew it was just a mark, just warning scar.

The ministry did not charge Hermione with the deaths of her parents, and they did not report them as caused by the Dark Lord. They simply released that they had died of undisclosed causes and they were shutting the case down for the moment because there was no substantial evidence with which to begin any investigation.

Hermione didn't bother to fight it. She didn't bother to bring about he justice that her parents deserved. It had been a month after that and she was far more busy trying to sleep in the castle of Hogwarts, then she was trying to hurt the people she knew were responsible. She knew that they were still watching her every move so she couldn't lead them to Harry and the Order. She knew they would watch her as long as she was in England and she didn't know how much more she could take. With still two months before school started again she decided that she would travel. If it didn't stop the feeling of those eyes watching her, at least it would stop people from showering her in pity. She had the money. She had the knowledge to keep her safe. She had to leave.

A/n: I would like to thank my first reviewer, Really-A-Dopey-1 and this chapter is dedicated to them. Enjoy.


	3. Now who do I love?

1Hermione dashed down the stairs, her cat by her side and the miniature trunk in her hands. She had just spoken to Dumbledore and though he had preferred her to stay until the start of school, he understood that she needed to leave to remain legally sane. It was all she could do to not skip out of the castle, screaming for joy. Never before did these steps seem to go on for so long. It was as if the castle was trying to discourage her from running out the front door.

She looked up as her feet met the last step and a look of horror washed over her face. Professor Snape was not standing more then two feet away, with a sneer across his face. Her momentum was too great and she was sure to crash into him. She shut her eyes, bracing herself for the impact she knew would come. Instead of running into him, she felt two strong hands grasping her shoulders, keeping her from moving forward. She opened her eyes and saw that the hands belonged to her still sneering potions master.

"You would think that someone who seems to so 'intelligent' would know better then to stampede down the stairs like some animal," he let go of her shoulders after he spat these words out.

She muttered an apology with downcast eyes as he stepped around her.

Without turning around he said in a cold, cynical voice, "I shouldn't expect much more from someone that looks so much like a rodent, however."

She gasped and spun around so that her eyes could meet his retreating back. She would have said something, but stunned from that verbal slap, she could only glare. How could he be so mean and inconsiderate? As he continued up the stairs, she remembered why she had been in such a hurry. In a few minutes she would be in coach provided by Professor Dumbledore driving away from this school and that awful man and that horrible feeling of eyes watching her where ever she went. Without further hesitation she began walking again, as fast as she could without it qualifying as a flat out run. With each step she felt she was getting a little freer, a little further away from the eyes.

Once she was out the front door, she felt like she could breathe easily again, like the block of cement that had been on her chest was gone. As she got into the coach, she was able to relax, and stop looking around for some spy. After they left the school gates and began down the road that would bring her to the train station, she almost felt like she could fly with the weight of worry being removed from her. It had been such a long, long time since she felt this at ease. Come to think of it, she hadn't felt this carefree since before she got her letter from Hogwarts.

All those years of worrying about being excepted, wondering if she'd wake up one morning and her magic would be gone, waiting for someone to ask her something that she didn't know the answer to and then them showing the world that she wasn't fit to be a witch. Add the worry of being killed by someone because of her parents or her friendship with Harry Potter and you've got yourself a true blue basket case.

She looked out the window and caught a glimpse of her reflection. What did he know anyway? Her teeth were normal now. Her hair was a bit bushy and seemed almost like it could pass for a squirrel's, but his hair looked like it belonged on a skunk. The only thing keeping it from being mistaken as such was the lack of a white stripe, which,-Hermione smiled as she reached for her wand- could be arranged. She frowned when she realized what she had been thinking. So what if he was pigheaded and mean and...and...and a greasy git? It didn't matter what he thought. Not at all. She was going to get on that train and she'd leave behind all this. She would travel to India, and then to China, and then to Japan, and the Americas. She'd just get up and go when she wanted. She'd just not worry about anything until the time for school to start began. And maybe not even then. She didn't have to come back. She had the money to just keep moving and the intelligence to get a job doing something she liked, like writing, or she could open her own book shop!

Hermione felt the coach jerk slightly and stepped out. She climbed onto the train, checking her ticket one last time to make sure. From here she'd go to the coast, and then board a ferry to France and then an air plane to Italy, and then one more to India where she'd stay for however long she liked. Crookshanks trotted in after her, meowing and pawing at her shoe strings. They got into an empty compartment and Hermione sat her tiny trunk down beside her after Crookshanks decided on which seat was best for sunning.

As soon as the train's whistle blew and they began to slowly leave the station, she felt all the worry about almost everything melt away. Now she became more aware of that sharp pain in her heart that was twice as distressing then her paranoia. The sadness that had been hiding underneath the coat of fret hit her with strong force. She was running away, wasn't she? It was too late to turn back now. The world outside was speeding past her in a blur and she'd taken the time to argue her way outside of the walls of the damn castle. Thoughts of her own book shop left her head. She promised her parents that she'd make them proud and so she would. She'd graduate, the top of her class like she had wanted to begin with. Hermione would be apart of the group that defeated the Voldermort and she'd begin a new family and she'd be at least as good as a mother as her own was. That was why she took everything wasn't it? So she could take it with her and begin a new life, right? She'd have a daughter with the man she loved and they'd lived happily ever after. Now who was the man she loved?

A/N: It's short, but I will get another chapter out to you soon. I promise. I just thought I liked where it ended, okay? And I added Snape in so be happy

To duj: I suppose you're right, but I had a scene in my mind that is going to be in an upcoming chapter which wouldn't work if she hadn't.

To Varcolaci (): I see where you're coming from. Is this chapter any better or do I need to take a new approach?

To my dear reviewers: thank you.


	4. Little Rabbit's friend

1It had taken three days to get to Bombay, but Hermione was at the Bollywood capitol. This place was nothing like she could describe, the colors were bright and blurring. The smells were both putrid and sweet at the same time. The constant sounds assaulted her ears in soothing way. It was fresh, it was far from drab London, and that watching feeling didn't nag at the back of her mind and make the hairs on her arms stand up.

The hotel she was staying at was far more exciting then any bed and breakfast she'd been to. A merchant was in the room next to her. They'd wake up at the same time, leave their rooms at the same time and always in the same fashion. She'd bow her head just slightly and utter a greeting, usually "Namaskar", and he'd spin around in grand fashion, without anything but a grunt. She kept doing it anyway. Across the hall was a young woman, Jessie, who had been there for awhile. She was from America, and was rather friendly which was a nice relief. She'd leave early in the morning, before Hermione was even awake and then return around dinner time. Hermione accessed that from the huge camera that Jessie had with her all the time that she was a photographer and took pictures of the daily going ons in the market. The place seemed more like an apartment building in a way, as the occupants stayed for such a long time indeed. It only seemed more so that the care taker and his family lived on the first floor. He was a man no older then 35 with a girl who looked like she could have been an Indian Shirley Temple and a little boy who clung to his mother's Sari. Their mother couldn't have been more then five years older then Hermione, but seemed so calm and patient. She spoke rather good English, as Hermione soon learned many Indians did, and they became very close.

She spent breakfast, lunch, and dinner there. It was always loud and filled with laughter. The only one who rarely sad anything, if he even showed up, was the merchant, but Hermione found him comforting and apart of the house hold. Hermione felt comfortable around these people because they didn't judge her or want to know about her past. They just joked and ate and laughed and ate and sang and ate and drank. It was a great little gathering of people, and it made her relax.

When Hermione wasn't in the boarding house, she'd wonder around the market place, content to take it all in to the point that her senses overloaded and she went into auto drive. The routine lasted for a week or two, when it met with a bit of an odd disturbance. She had been examining melons at a stall when she heard a rasping voice behind her call to her.

"Girl who looks like rodent!"

An old man, his head shaved and a beard close to his waist beckoned to her. His face was almost free of all signs of age, and the only thing that made you believe he was over 40 was the snow white of bushy eyebrows and facial hair. Hesitant, Hermione slowly walked, too curious to be mad of what he called her, towards him, careful to look for anybody on the road that may run her over before she finally got to where only three feet stood between them.

"You've suffered a great loss, yes?" He asked concerned, but knowing the answer.

Hermione nodded, her brow creased with contemplation and curiosity.

"Such a young and beautiful lady as yourself, it is strange that your aura is so troubled," he explained, as if he was talking about why it rained.

Hermione had to hold back an eye roll. It looks like she had found herself another Professor Trelawney. Of course she didn't show her annoyance, as it would have been rude and the last thing she wanted to do at the moment was hurt someone's feelings. The old man smiled knowingly, as if he was apart of a joke with Hermione, yet she didn't know what joke it was.

"I would like to help," he reminded her almost of Professor Dumbledore when he spoke, "Follow me, please."

He turned on his heel and began weaving in and out of the crowd, with curious little Hermione trailing behind him. For such an old man, he sure was quick. He turned down a narrow opening between two tall buildings. So narrow that Hermione had to walk behind him instead of beside so that she could fit. She was glad that Crookshanks stayed at the hotel, playing chase with the children, because at this opportune time the cat would have tripped her and the old man without a second thought. Hermione glimpsed over the shoulder of the old man who was about 6 inches taller then her. They were headed towards a dead end. Of course, living many years in the magical world taught Hermione never to judge based on appearances alone. She kept walking, but stopped as she bumped into the back of the old man who did not take any notice of it. They had stopped at least two yards from the end, but the man turned to a moth eaten cloth that once had some kind of print on it that had faded over many years to a dull yellow brown. He pulled it aside and revealed a doorway that was a few inches even more narrow then the alley they had been in. He lead her along a hallway that seemed to go on for miles, and felt as if they were actually walking on a slight slope downward.

"My name, it is Rahu," breaking the silence but not turning to look at her.

Hermione responded quietly, "I am Hermione."

She began to wish that she hadn't followed him. Her feet were sore, the air was getting cold and smelled more and more like mold as they walked along, she could see nothing but black now, and she didn't know if she should have trusted a stranger. But she felt like she could. She felt like she could trust him almost as much as Harry or Ron. She became away that it no longer felt as if she were walking downward but more like she was walking up. In fact, it was a rather steep hike, and she nearly had to stop along the way to catch her breath. Light seemed to be up ahead and she could make out the silhouette of the old man. The air was hotter now, and she began to sweat. They were at the exit, and the sudden brightness nearly blinded Hermione. They had come out on a cliff, at least 30 feet high from the tops of the trees in the jungle below. She winced as the sun met her eyes and then noticed that Rahu was holding out a canteen.

"Drink," he command gently, "you've walked such a long way and have not had anything to drink in many hours."

It was true. Hermione looked at her watch and saw that they had started that hike three hours ago. She reached for the canteen and drank two gulps before she remembered it wasn't hers and she had company. She handed it back, looking a little sheepish. Rahu laughed, a deep hearty laugh that rose from his stomach and reminded her of how king's laughed in the movies she use to watch as a kid.

"It is alright," he said with a little chuckle, "I have all that I need. Now come, sit down."

She complied and sat down crossed-legged on the hard stone, looking at him questioningly.

"You have come looking for help, yes, and you have found it?"

"N...no," she stammered, "You've found me and offered help."

"Ah, yes," his voice took on a mystic quality as he spoke, "That is what you believe. I did not offer help, I am showing you how to get it. You are the one who came to find it. You just do not consciously realize it."

This weird little man had his eyes shut, as if he were stuck in mid blink or sleeping. Hermione was intrigued. He spoke in riddles and seemed to understand her better then she did.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, softly as if talking to a crying child.

With one final look at his face, she let her eyelids sink down and block the images around her out.

"What you must learn, is that emotions are all around us. We open ourselves to them. When we want to feel a certain way subconsciously, when we expect to feel a certain way consciously, we let those emotions in. We call to what we want. You expect to feel sad, you feel sad. You want to feel hate, you feel hate. It takes more then strong want to change what you feel when something changes your life on a large scale. It takes need. People's aura's show what emotion they have let in"

He turned and faced Hermione. Feeling his eyes on her face she opened her own. He looked very serious, but not grave in the normal sense.

"You're aura shows that you have grief, confusion, and hate."

He shut his eyes once more and turned his face towards the setting sun.

"They are strong emotions. They are hard to get out."

Hermione stared at him a moment longer as he paused then shut her eyes again.

"I can not make them leave. It is your body. It is your soul. You must do that on your own. I can only show you the way to the best of my ability."

After a minute or an hour, maybe it was a day, he began to chant, "Ah...I...Ee...Oo...Uuuu."

It went on for three days but Hermione didn't notice. The world was spinning beneath her, slowly but she could feel it. The air around her was moving, too, and it had an electric tingle against her skin. Suddenly Hermione began to wonder if it were the chant or his words or the place that did it. Maybe it had been that way the whole time and she hadn't noticed. Maybe she it had been that way forever and she had just rushed through life that way. She didn't understand exactly what he had said, but she was becoming more aware of this sensation of moving water, of lava, of air, of fire dancing in her veins all at once. When she opened her eyes he was still sitting as if nothing had ever happened. But that sensation wouldn't leave. She didn't think she wanted it to, either.

Not saying a word she stood up and turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

"Pain works in almost the same way. People think we are in the body, but really the body is in us. You can stop the nerves from sending signals to your brain and you can even change the signal. But you must have the will to do it. Remember that."

"Thank you,"Hermione said as she turned, smiling to herself.

She knew she wouldn't spend nights talking to him about her problems, and she wouldn't go shopping with him or play games in a common room, but she knew he was her friend now and she'd be able to find him, should she need him.

As she was walking back down the tunnel, she didn't see the small smile on his lips. She didn't hear him say, "You're welcome, little rabbit."

A/N: Longer yes. Better? Thats up to you to decide. I've never been to India so I don't know what it looks like or anything. I'm just making it up as I go, but Namaskar really means Hello.

Thanks to CareBearErin: She's going to do more then mature. Wow! You're going to be happy about this. I'm not even at the tip of the iceberg just yet.

Thanks to Nadia: I didn't plan on her being that way really. I guess I was trying to show how level headed she is, and how much she keeps on the inside. I'll try to keep her from turning out so cold from now on.


	5. A million words in a nod

1Hermione emerged out the other end of the tunnel into the narrow alley. Thankfully, the sun was long gone so it didn't hurt her eyes, but it left her in a position for many of the weirdos to take advantage of her being alone and unarmed save for her wand. She scampered down the streets, hurry along side the empty stalls. Cars with no headlights would pass her, as would the occasional man. It wasn't natural for her to be out this late, as she was female and all. The quicker she got back inside the walls of the hotel the better.

She didn't even know how long she had really been gone. Surely, it wasn't too long she thought, not knowing that in fact she had been away for three days.

She ran as fast as she could while still being able to breathe. The moonlight lit the road for her so she was able to jump over any broken pottery or boxes that had been left by the careless shoppers from the morning. She sure looked a sight, a single white teenage girl in an orange Sari running down empty streets in the middle of the night. She felt this sharp tinge in her chest, that only caused her to run faster. Something kept telling her in the back of her mind she needed to be at the hotel now! As the roof of the building came into view, Hermione began an all out sprint.

Her legs were killing her and she tried to change that feeling, to stop it, but nothing happened. Concentrating on them only seemed to make it worse. The pain intensified with each step, until she was beyond the gate and running through the door. As soon as she stepped in, she doubled over, panting. Hermione's lack of air had been unnoticed until she was safe inside. Shutting the door with one hand, and not able to look up she heard two pairs of feet come running down the stairs to her.

"Hermio!" The caretaker's little girl, Kumuda, shouted as she raced towards her, "Come! Quick! Come! Crookshanks not well!"

Hermione looked up sharply, her eyes wide. Suddenly, she couldn't bring anymore air through her lips and her chest got tight. She couldn't move her tongue, she couldn't open her mouth. Nothing worked and she felt dizzy. Kumuda's words kept replaying and replaying as time froze. It was as if someone has pressed the pause button just to taunt her.

When she found her voice, somewhere deep in her throat, she choked out, "What? Where...where is Crookshanks?"

Shashi, the mother, came from the stairs and walked over to Hermione to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Crookshanks sick. I came down and he was lying on floor and howling like a wild beast! Kiran took cat to room and is making Crookshanks better," she said, sounding serene.

"Kiran, the merchant?"

Shashi nodded.

She meant to soothe her, yet, her words only upset Hermione more. She could only think about what the silent man who didn't seem to like her would do to her cat. His presence in the building no longer felt like it belonged, like it was okay. The comfort Hermione found in the routine disappeared.

The shy little boy, Abhaya, took her hands and with the help of his sister, helped to pull the still breathless Hermione up the stairs. The little girl was shouting something frantically. It was English, but Hermione no longer could pick the words apart and mentally add the spaces, comas, and punctuation needed to understand. The door to Kiran's room was open, and as soon as she heard the meowing of her beloved cat, she found her legs and stepped inside. After the second step she froze again. Blood was on the floor and she could see Kiran's figure hunched over in a corner. What was going on, she couldn't tell because the bed was in the way. Kiran stood, and turned around, looking as grave and tightlipped as ever. All down his front was blood and on his hands, too. He walked towards Hermione and looked her over once. Hermione wanted nothing more then to move. To get away from him and get towards Crookshanks. She could still hear that weird meow that must have been in dying pain. She knew if she could get to him now she might be able to save him. But her feet just stayed rooted to that spot.

Kiran just grabbed her arm and pulled her so that Crookshanks came into view. There her orange baby was, laying on one of Kiran's blood soaked shirts. It was sure that there was no Muggle way to clean that off. As she got closer, she noticed rather strange bumps on the stomach of Crookshanks. Crookshanks, was fine, he just looked a little sleepy. What were those bumps? They hadn't been that way when Hermione left.

"Did you know," he said, his voice deep and drenched with an Indian accent, "You're cat was pregnant."

"No! That's impossible! Crookshanks is a male. He can't get pregnant!"

Hermione bent down towards her cats and found that the bumps were really three little kittens, nursing! Crookshanks wasn't a he. Crookshanks was a she! How could Hermione over look this? Crookshanks had been getting fatter, but Hermione assumed he was just getting lazy and eating too much. The fur had kept her from seeing any real sign that things were not what they seemed. Immediately Hermione felt a wave of guilt. She had thought Kiran had done something horrible to Crookshanks in reality he had not only ruined a shirt of his for her, but helped deliver her kittens. When she looked up to thank Kiran he was gone from the room. Hermione sighed, still feeling pained that she would think that about him. She went to her room and conjured a basket. She was about to go back into Kiran's room to carry Crookshanks to her own, but Kiran was standing in the door way, Crookshanks and her kittens nestled in the shirt he held. Silently he walked to the basket and set them down and handed her a bottle of what looked like milk, but smelled sweet, a bit like lavender.

"Thank you," Hermione said softly.

Kiran just turned and left after a slight nod with his head. Hermione turned to care for her cat...well cats now. Stroking the exhausted mother, Hermione pondered over what had just happened. She felt a new bond to him, a new tie. His hard, tan face with the changeless stern expression wasn't that of a silent loner anymore, but more of a lonely, familiar friend. Hermione pour the milk into Crookshanks's bowl and nudge it to her, encouragingly. The tired cat lapped lazily at the milk. After a few minutes, Crookshanks finished her meal and began grooming the sleeping kittens. Hermione smiled and yawned.

"You've got yourself a little bit of a handful, don't you?" Hermione giggled as the cat meowed in response.

That night she went to sleep laying next to the basket in case the new mother needed anything.

The next morning, Hermione left, after making sure all three of the kittens where well. As she shut her door, Kiran shut his.

"Namaskar," Hermione smiled as she waited for him to turn around without a word.

He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He just nodded and that's as close as Hermione got to a 'hello'. And that's all she needed.

A/N: Short. Sorry. And I won't update for the next few days so be happy with this. I'll have a great update for you when I get back though. Really. I'll make it at least three pages long at least. And I'm sorry for every one who wanted Crookshanks to stay a boy. I needed a mama cat.

Thanks to Really-a-Dopey: I don't think anyone likes fudge. Thank you for all your reviews.

Thanks to Varcolaci: You're really encouraging me to write better. Tell me if you think this chapter is lacking.

CareBearErin: Well the main reason is I love Yoga, and yoga originated in that area. Plus, some of the things Rahu told Hermione were borrowed and mixed with the teachings of yoga.

Thanks to all my reviewers.


	6. Stepping on the toes of evil

It was a week after Crookshanks had given birth and Hermione was packing up to leave for school.

Kiran and she continued the modified routine every day, her greeting and his head nod. Hermione was determined to repay him for all the kindness he had shown her. Since the first bottle of the strange lavender milk, Kiran had given her several more to feed to Crookshanks. It kept Crookshanks from feeling the effects of nursing or so it seemed. Hermione never did find out what the milk was, but she supposed it was an Indian secret. She also never did properly thank him for delivering the kittens, but it didn't seem as she would get much of a chance to do it in private and she didn't think a simple thank you would suffice.

This would be Hermione's last breakfast here for now. Hermione planned to return though. It was like being with family. Like being loved and Hermione enjoyed the feeling, finding it more comforting then any fawning from her friends at Hogwarts. Hermione sat down and smiled to herself as everyone was there at the table this morning. Kumuda and Abhaya sat next to each other, poking one another under the table and giggling as they thought no one new of their very obvious game. Jessie had come down with a cold and so she didn't leave the inn very often at the moment. She sat next to Hermione and had to reassure Shashi that she did indeed have enough food on her plate. When everyone had been served Shashi sat down on the right of her husband, Raj. Kiran took his usual place at the other end of the table from Hermione, between Abhaya and Raj. They ate with the same volume of noise as always- loud. Hermione really was going to miss all this. The spicy food, the under the table poking, the giggling and talk of things to be done that day with jokes and hearty laughs interjected throughout.

Hermione had made up her mind though. She was going to go back to school and start her 6th year. All her supplies had been taken care of by mail and all her books had been memorized late at night when she should have been sleeping. She knew everything that she was going to learn this year already. It left her time to help Harry and Ron defeat the dark lord.

Everyone was done eating and Shashi had taken the plates from the table to the kitchen to be washed. Jessie got up to help her as did Hermione, but Kumuda and Abhaya had grabbed her hands, bouncing up and down asking to play. Shashi sent a smile her way and gave an understanding nod before she went through the door way. Hermione allowed the two kids to pull her out of the dining room and into the den.

She sat down in the middle of the giant circle of blocks and took the doll Kumuda held out to her.

"You get to be Cindy, Princess Jasmine's little sister," Kumuda said as she held up another doll who's hair looked like it had seen better days.

Abhaya stood near a tall tower of blocks and held up a Ken doll in a cape and said, "And I'm the Prince who is here to fight the dragon before he can, before he can...before..."

The little boy looked like he was in a deep struggle somewhere internally, as he tried to remember what the fire breathing beast was going to do.

"Before he can eat us!"Kumuda snapped as if it was the most well known piece of information in existence.

"Yeah! Before he can eat you!"Abhaya said with a giant grin on his face.

They began the miniature play, directed by a picky and dramatic Kumuda. Cindy fainted at least five times before she did it right, and the Prince had to drop his sword and nearly fall off a cliff before the five minute fight scene was up to par. After a while, Raj called to his kids to help with some daily chore, saving Hermione from have to send Cindy to the tower to give the Prince a new weapon and the key to the room that Princess Jasmine was trapped in.

Hermione got up, her knees aching from being in the same position for over twenty minutes. She made her way through the castle ruins, almost destroying the ball room as she stumbled about, trying to make it to the door so that she could finish packing the last few things.

Once safely in her room, she waved her wand and the last few objects laying about landed into her school trunk which locked itself. Thankfully, the Ministry didn't know she was staying here so did not know it was her using magic under aged. Even if they did she didn't think that with the new developments and minister would care much about her. Scrimgeour was too busy looking busy to actually be busy.

Stepping toward the corner that mother Crookshanks was laying, Hermione knelt down to pet the purring feline.

"The last thing you need is a train ride. I wonder if..."

Hermione got up and walked down the stairs to the kitchen where she knew Shashi was still busy, cleaning and making snacks for the rest of the day. Shashi greeted Hermione with a bright smile. Jessie had already gone back to her room since the dishes had been finished.

"Getting ready to check out?" Shashi said as she mixed up dough for some sort of cookie.

Hermione nodded as she took the spoon of cookie dough Shashi offered. It tasted like sugar cookies. Delicious.

"I'm going to miss everyone here. You've all been so nice to me. I was thinking I might come back some time and stay a while," Hermione paused to see if the other woman was uncomfortable about what she said. After a moment Hermione began again, "I was wondering, since Crookshanks shouldn't travel in her condition and moving the kittens much now could cause problems, if you would mind taking care of her while I was away."

Shashi smiled, still stirring the dough as she said, "I would love to Hermione. You are like sister to me. It is nice to talk to someone near my age for change."

Hermione hugged Shashi, careful not to knock the bowl out of Shashi's hands.

"Leave her in your room," Shashi said, returning the hug.

"Thank you!" Hermione let her go and walked back out of the kitchen to grab her trunk, but found as she got towards the stairs that Raj already had her things there. She gave the man a hug and said her thanks. He smiled down at her.

"Come back some time, little one."

Hermione payed for the weeks she had stayed there, grabbed her trunk and headed towards the door. If she waited any longer she was sure she'd miss her flight back. The care takers children came running up to her and wrapped their arms around each of her legs. She patted them on the head, reassuring them both that she'd be back soon enough when the tears in their eyes began to well up. Jessie who had come down to take pictures of the inn gave her a hug, before snapping about six of her. Kiran was no where in sight. Sadly, Hermione didn't have time to find him to say goodbye.

She loaded everything into the trunk of the cab outside and gave one last fleeting look towards the building that she had come to think of as home. The cab sped on after she told the driver to take her to the airport. On the way, they passed the market place and she could see Rahu, at a stall looking over some beans. She gave a small smile and a wave and he nodded his head and smiled back. Hermione was really going to miss this place. But it was time for her to go back. It'd take her two days to get to King's Cross Station, just in time to board Platform 9 3/4. Time to go back to the watching.

After a few hours, she was flying over fields below in India, heading towards a train that would take her to London. Hermione looked over to see a balding mad gripping his seat with a white bag in his hands. She smiled to herself. After being on a broom, an airplane ride was nothing.

She turned to a book. Her DADA book. Although she had memorized it word for word, Hermione read it again and again to make sure that every bit of information if might contain was absorbed. Between the airplane and the train to London, she was able to read it another three times before the train slowed to a stop and she grabbed her trunk. Had she not slept most of the train ride she would have been able to read it a good five times, but she needed to

She was in King's Cross Station so she didn't have to walk far to get to the barrier. She wheeled her trunk through the barrier and kept going straight. Too bad for the person who happen to have been standing on the other side. Hermione plowed into them. Which in turn was too bad for her. It was Draco Malfoy, the bouncing ferret. He pulled himself up to his feet, his blonde hair falling into his face as he brushed himself off.

"Watch where you're going, you dirty little mudblood or you'll regret it next time ," He glared daggers at her but his face softened and he turned as a silver snake head landed softly on his shoulder and pulled him gently back.

"Now Draco, watch your manners," Malfoy senior said in a silky drawl, "You can't expect everyone to be graced with the foresight to look where they are going, especially those that have no one to teach them."

Hermione didn't say anything, she just wheeled her trunk towards the train, teeth clenched and knuckles white. She did manage to step onto both Malfoys' feet, pretending not to notice.

She did notice a group of red heads and one head of messy black hair. She also noticed the Aurors surrounding them.

"Mione!" Ginny yelled, running towards her and wrapping her in a hug that could have come from Hagrid himself.

The boys ran to her, wrapping her in bear hugs as well, questioning her about everything they had read in the papers and heard from different people. They didn't even give her a chance to answer before they asked another. It felt nice to be here, in the middle of her best friends and she was glad they hadn't changed much since she last saw them. They helped with her trunk and after giving Harry an apologetic look, she and Ron went to their perfects meeting and then to attend to their duty of patrolling the train and checking the compartments.

It was really just a blur for Hermione, but she did notice that the ferret was missing from the perfects' compartment. Seemed unusual for him not to be there. The meeting ended, after a long speech that they should be careful and report anything suspicious immediately and take this year's perfect duties very seriously.

They stood up after being dismissed, Ron walking down the opposite way of Hermione as they began to patrol the corridors. She passed by a compartment, sticking her head in to make sure everything was okay only to see that it was nothing but a bunch of Sylterins sitting around doing nothing but looking evil and in Perkins and Malfoy's case, being disgusting.

"Five points from Sylterin for inappropriate conduct," Hermione said tartly, shutting the door as she did and walking on down the corridor. She was aware that a door had slid open behind her, but she was busy telling to Hufflepuffs to get back into their seats, taking points off for the two trying to hex each other. With a rough shove she was pushed into the empty compartment as soon as she had shut the door to the other. She pulled herself up from the floor to see Malfoy pulling the shade down over the window and locking the door.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I had other things to do. But as you can see this is going to be AU now that the Half Blood Prince is out, but I will be taking things from it and mixing it in here. In fact I'm going to take one scene and really use it to make you people happy. Well some of you might want to kill me afterwards, but the rest of you are going to be leaping for joy. I'm thinking too, that I want a love triangle now...or a square. This could get interesting.

Thanks to Artemis Virgin Goddess-Yeah, I wanted to keep you on the edge or your seat and make you think that, but I couldn't ever kill poor Crookshanks.

Thanks to Varcolaci-Thank you for the support.

Thanks to Nadia-I love reviews and I'll be sure that the grammar and spelling is better this time. I guess you don't notice it while you're typing until you go back and it's up on Fanfiction and someone else has noticed it.

Thanks to Severus-Fan-Sorry I didn't update sooner. No snape in this one, but I promise you'll get him very soon.

Thanks to CarebearErin- Yeah it does play a big role in the story. That and I always thought Crookshanks had more of a female attitude about him.

Thanks to everyone again. I'll have the next update up as soon as possible.


	7. Saved by the bat

Hermione reached into her robes, searching in her pocket for her wand. Too late. Malfoy's wand pointed towards her head, right between the eyes.

"You could be in serious trouble for this, Malfoy," Hermione wasn't about to let him intimidate her to the point of silence.

"And what are you going to do, Mudblood? Take points off for inappropriate conduct?" Malfoy sneered down at her. It seemed he was inheriting his father's cold silky drawl, though it was imperfect.

His wand was mere centimeters from her forehead and Hermione knew that Malfoy was able to kill her, or cause some serious damage trying, but that didn't stop her from pushing herself off the ground to stand at her full height- 5'4. Scary to a first year just over 4ft, but not to the 5'11 Malfoy standing in front of her.

"You really should learn that your place, Granger," He sneered, hate in his cold eyes as he stared down at her, "Is below purebloods like myself. I think I'll just have to give you lesson in wizard courtesy so no one else's toes are stepped on."

As he opened his mouth to mutter some curse, Hermione took the chance to knee him where it counted. However, before her knee was halfway up, Malfoy's hand pushed it back down and easily pinned her to the wall behind her with one hand.

"That was not a very wise decision," His whispered the words but they still sounded as threatening as if he had yelled at her.

"If you don't get off of me, ferret, I'm going to scream."

Malfoy chuckled at that and pocketed his wand so that he could press him palm against her throat.

"Go ahead, scream. No one...," He was caught off by someone out side the door muttering an unlocking charm and sliding the door open.

Over his shoulder, Hermione could see the face of Professor Snape. She never thought she'd be so happy to see him. The moment she opened her mouth to say something, Malfoy pressed his own against hers. Blank. For the first time in three months, Hermione Jane Granger's mind was blank.

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, save that type of behavior for your own time," Snape's voice was cold and bored sounding but the look in his eye was one of anger and confusion and maybe a hint of amusement.

"Sorry, Professor," Malfoy feigned embarrassment, "I was patrolling the corridors when I found Hermione in here unconscious. Someone shut the door on us and locked us in here. Probably a prank from some first year. I was simply trying to resuscitate her."

"That's not true! Malfoy had me at wand point and..."Hermione was fuming but Snape cut her off.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for lying," he smirked slightly as did Malfoy.

"But..."

"Another ten for back talk,"his voiced remained monotonous but his eyes were alive and dancing as he spoke, "Keep it up and you'll be serving the first detention of the year."

Hermione fell silent and looked down at her feet. She knew she had no hopes of winning. Why fight it and end up having to spend more time with the greasy git then she already had to?

"Twenty points to Sylterin for showing concern for fellow school mates."

This only made Malfoy even more smug. He gave her one last smirk and a wink before he headed out of the compartment and back to his own. Snape looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye before turning and striding back to the teachers compartment, his robes billowing as much as possible in the tight space. This was going to be one long year.

A/N: Short yes. But I'll have the next chapter up tonight which has far more detail and will seriously blow you away. I think around 5 pages will do it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. From here on out there will be no more individual mentions of anyone. Just a group thank you. Please continue to review though, because if I don't have 30 reviews by the time I'm at chapter ten, I won't be writing anymore for this story.


	8. Stupid Purple

Hermione hadn't told anyone about the incident with Malfoy. It really wasn't worth it. It had been a two days since it had happened and she had found out about Harry's run in with Malfoy on the train. Strange really. Well not really, they had sent his father away to Azkaban for a grand total of four weeks before he found a way out of it. Even so, Malfoy would seek revenge for everything that happened to his father. Hermione felt this wasn't the end, but she didn't say anything. She didn't need to be wrapped up in this right now. She didn't want to hear about Draco Malfoy being a Deatheater and she certainly wasn't going to admit to Harry and Ron that deep down she agreed. Had she done that then there would be no excuse for working on school work instead of helping the two fight evil and right now Hermione needed normal things for just a little bit. Just long enough to get everything sorted with her mentally. 

Potions. No Snape. Thank the great divine powers above. Or maybe it was sheer dumb luck. Whatever it was, she might finally get some recognition. The new professor, Slughorn, asked for them to name the contents of each cauldron set out. Easy peasy. Hand up. He scans the classroom, has to pick her. Haha! Triumph.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

Praise. Not snide comments. Not a punishment for knowing. Just praise. Second time. Hand up in a flash. Touch down!

"Polyjuice Potion, sir"

Then the praise. Finally. Praise for doing it right and for knowing it. Thank gosh. Thank gosh. Next cauldron. Going to be a snap. Hand up. Hermione again. Score!

"Amortentia!"

Slughorn looks pleased while saying, "It seems almost foolish to ask but I assume you know what it does?"

Of course, she knows what it means! Of course! All he had to do was ask. All anyone ever has to do is ask.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!"

He's suggesting that she recognized it by it's shiny shimmer that makes it look like someone managed to melt a pearl in their cauldron. Of course. That and the steaming spirals, and the attractive smell. Mowed grass reminding her of her father. New parchment like at school. Hermione almost blurted out fresh cookies like her mother makes along with a million other smells, before she realized that she was in a class room. A little blush crept into her cheeks.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" Slughorn smiled at her as, a flash of joy in his eyes before it melted away to a simple twinkle.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

He repeats the name, mulling over it. Yes, she said Granger, but does he have to repeat it like it's part of a riddle he's in the middle of solving?

"Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?" He asked, trying to find a reason for her brilliance.

"No, I don't think so, sir," Hermione nearly has to hold an eye roll back as she says this, "I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Just because she is smart does not mean that she is pureblood. Just because she knows things does not mean that she has any connection to a pureblood wizard. Just because she's smarter then anyone in that classroom did not mean she had any connections whatsoever. Yes, she was aware that Malfoy was whispering something about her to that Nott kid. Yes, she knew that he wasn't the only one. No, she didn't care. She didn't care at all. Let them giggle. Gosh knows they don't have anything else to brighten up their life with except the half-witted cliche remarks about her parents. Well laugh it up boys!

Before Hermione had any real time to fume about it, Professor Slughorn looked to Harry and said, "Oh! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

Best in the year. Wow. Wow. Wow! Hermione's cheeks burned. Her best friend thought she was the best in her year and he had yelled it to a full grown potions master. Well, it was true that she was the top of the class. Slughorn gave her twenty points. Points in potions be awarded to her. Who would have thought? Hermione didn't even need to turn around to know that Malfoy looked dumbstruck and in a few moments he'd be slightly seething at what had happened. Haha! Laugh it up boys. Laugh it up.

Hermione gushed, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

She wanted to hug that boy right then and there. Ron whispered something about it being the truth and if Slughorn had only asked he could have told him that. Radiating with pride and happiness, Hermione had to reprimand herself mentally and remember they were in class. She shushed the boys and turned back to the teacher, not knowing the look that Ron shot her and Harry as her full attention turned back to the class. Today she would be the best and finally get what she deserved for it.

"It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room- oh yes," Slughorn was talking about the Amortentia potion, "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."

Macmillan asked about the small cauldron on Slughorn's desk. Hermione didn't need to be told that the bubbling liquid sunshine was really a potion of pure luck, Felix Felicis. And she gladly answered his question of it's purpose. The class leapt to attention. It was really sickening that nothing was really important to anyone until it offered something to gain. Ten more points though. That's what mattered. Rack up the points now. They'd lose a few in DADA. Not that they'd lose as much as they did the years before in Potions since most of them did know more about the subject then the Sylterins, thanks to Harry's DA.

Slughorn began saying, "It's a little funny potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been..."

Hermione knew everything he said before he said it. She had known everything Snape had said before it hit her ears, too. They both knew it. Both Professors knew she didn't need the lecture like the other students. Only one of them cared enough to let her know that they knew.

"...highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

Corner cut in with a rather stupid question indeed, "Have you ever taken it, sir?"

"Twice in my life..."

Yes, of course if he took the time to brew it he would drink it! Does the class need to know about a teacher's personal life? Get on with the lesson. Let Hermione prove herself again. Let her make a potion and for the first time be told how amazing it is instead of barely scraping by. Slughorn, concluded his speech with an announcement that it would be the prize for brewing their next potion correctly. 12 hours of luck. Yes, yes. Fine indeed. But that wasn't why Hermione wanted to win. Hermione turned to page 10, looking over the instructions to Draught of Living Death. She worked swiftly, yet with the most care she could manage for any task.

At the half-way mark, Hermione's was perfect. A beautiful black currant color. She handed her knife to Harry at his request, only barely registering what she was doing. Her eyes were trained to her potion. Why wasn't it lilac? Stupid purple. Stupid purple. What went wrong? What did she miss. Please. Please. Please let hers be the best. One glance around the room. Yes, she was coming the closest. Wait! Harry's potion was lilac! Stupid lilac! Stupid lilac! It turned pink. Hermione had watched him from the corner of her eyes. That couldn't be right. He wasn't stirring it right. Stupid pink...stupid purple! Why was her potion still purple?

"How are you doing that?" Hermione hissed at him, growing more and more frustrated.

"Add a clockwise stir-"

"No! No, the book says counterclockwise!" Hermione was fuming.

She was very nearly the color of her potion-plum purple. Stupid stirring. She watched him from the corner of her eye. Yes, yes he was stirring it the wrong way, but it was just getting lighter and lighter like it should have. Well...Hermione picked up her spoon and imitated Harry. Seven counterclockwise, one clockwise. Immediately her potion began to change. She almost had it the color it should be...almost...stupid time. Stupid time! Slughorn told them to stop stirring. Hermione's was a pale pink. Harry's was at least three shades lighter. How did he know to do that? How? Stupid Harry. Stupid stirring. Stupid. Stupid. How could she have been so stupid? Well, at least she and Harry were the only ones that had pink potions. Slughorn smiled at hers and nodded in an approving way. Then the moment she knew was coming. If...If only she could use her time turner. No. That really was pushing it. She'd just have to deal with what Slughorn declared.

* * *

She really was a twit. A half-wit. She was so stupid. She was the most brilliant witch of their day.

To anyone with half a brain they could see that with her in the class room, it was like watching a dance. Watching a battle. The teacher would ask a question, offer a challenge. Her hand would raise, accepting and sending the challenge back as if it weren't good enough. Then the teacher would send it back, daring her to answer. Daring her to be smarter then any others in her class. It was beautiful to watch. Question. Hand up. Permission. Answer. Praise. Then it would begin again. Again. Again. If only he could do that.

Freshly cut grass. And new parchment. And... what else?

What a pretty pink color.

Slughorn asked for her name. How dare he not know her name. How could anyone not know her name? Even...even he knew her name. Even he knew who Hermione Granger was and he'd never even met her. He'd never sat in class with her. He'd never had to put up with her day after day. But he knew her well enough to ask this of another. To ask him to hurt her. Smart move, if only you don't want to be alive later. If only you don't want to be under her glaring eyes afterwards. It's best not to meet Miss. Granger when you plan on hurting her.

Slughorn asked her if she was related to a potions master. A pureblood potions master. His heart skipped a beat. Please. Please. Please say...she answered no. She blushed as she said she was simply a muggle-born. It's okay really. He is going to hurt her so it doesn't matter. He has to, because if he doesn't everything that he does have will be gone from him. And when he hurts her to save everything he thinks he has, it won't matter if there had been a chance or not. But why? Why couldn't she?

He leans over to whisper to his friend, "Now that Slughorn knows that she's a mudblood it'll be like having class with Snape."

He knows she heard them snigger. Sorry. No. No, he's not. He can't want anymore then he already has, because if he does he'll lose more. He'll lose it all. How could he do that? Stupid blood. Stupid blood. Stupid blood! What? Slughorn congratulated her? Draco's face contorts into half rage, half...no not joy. More like relief. Draco smirked inwardly, remembering that his muscles twitched this way when she had slapped him. Stop. Stop. STOP! Do not have those feelings. Have feelings that can't be returned, because soon he'd lose them anyway.

Draco sent a skeptical look towards his teacher, nearly laughing out loud as he said that out of everything in the room, Amortentia was the most dangerous.

"When you have seen as much life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love..."

Zone out. Whatever. Stupid potions. Stupid time. Go faster. Draco sat smirking thinking about DADA. If only it would come faster he could spend his least favorite class with his favorite teacher. Well until, that teacher began prying into his business. Already he was been prodded and poked by Snape, who wanted to know what the Dark Lord had assigned for him to do. What he was going to do. What was he going to do really? Hurt her. Hurt them all. But it was so he didn't lose anything. It was so he kept everything he ever had. He couldn't lose her. He never had her. He never would. The Dark Lord didn't know, but getting rid of this one person was only going to fuel the other side. Because she was on it. She was the most brilliant witch of their day and hurting her would only make her come after them. Stupid Gyrffindors. "It makes you lucky!" Hermione nearly screamed it.

Sit up straight. Listen, Draco, old boy. Listen, son.

"Quite right!" Slughorn throwing praise at her. At least he can do it for the rest of us. At least her can do it for him. "Take another ten points for Gryffindor," he says beaming, before he continued, "Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."

The Boot kid asked, "Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?"

Now why don't they? Why don't we all just stay lucky? Why don't we all just drink it and never have to worry again?

Slughorn said seriously which in its self is surprising, "Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence."

Draco smirked slightly. It seems he found out one of Potty's secrets. Stupid Potter. Stupid Potty. Stupid scar.

"Too much of a good thing, you know...highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

Corner asked if the professor has ever taken it. Well, yes. Yes. Yes! Obviously. The question should be what happened when he drank it.

Slughorn replied to the stupidity with a dreamy look on his face, "Twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

Two perfect days. Only one. That's all he needs is one. One perfect day. And here is his window of opportunity! A bottle. 12 hours of luck. If only he can brew the potion right. Please. Please. Please stupid mudblood mess up! Draco flipped through the pages to the Draught of the Living Death. Please. Please. Please make this right, Draco. Make this right, son. Draco didn't look up the entire time. He cut and measured and stirred. The only time he said anything was when he was trying to smooth talk Slughorn.

"Sir," he started sweetly, "I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"

Professor Slughorn didn't look up as he said, "Yes, I was sorry to hear that he died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age..."

He just walked away. This meant Draco's only choice was to out brew Hermione Granger. He didn't look at her cauldron, knowing that if he did he would just about give up to see her progress compared to his. It was nearly the end of class and he was just now getting it to turn lilac. Too late. Slughorn called time. Draco put his spoon down and turned his head just slightly so that he could see out of the corner of his eye Hermione's work. It was a pretty light shade of pink. Like the pink she was when she was talking about the love potion. Talking about grass and parchment and...what else was she going to say?

He knew Slughorn would pass him. What he didn't know was that he'd pass Hermione, too. He followed Slughorn's path to...what a shocker. Since when did he have any brains?

* * *

"The clear winner!"

Blah. Blah. Stupid blah. Lily's talents. Bull. This is the first time Harry's ever done better then Hermione. The first time! Later at the table, Hermione found out it was because of someone else's work. Someone else's notes. With those notes should could have done just as well as Harry. With those notes she could have done even better.

"It wasn't really your work, was it?" Hermione sniffed, reprimanding him, but already secretly devising a plan to slowly but surly get those notes without anyone ever knowing.

Ron was saying something. Ginny walked up though. She glared at Harry. Hermione didn't blame her. Books and Ginny didn't get along too well.

"Ginny's got a point," Hermione said excited that getting those notes would be easier done then what she had first thought, "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean all those funny instructions, who knows?"

Harry tried to protest as Hermione pulled out the potions book. She turned her back to Harry to keep him from grabbing it. Or so he thought. As he reached around, trying to grab the book, she muttered one spell. Nothing seemed to happen but inside Hermione was celebrating. She turned around to glare at Harry.

"Will you let me just see if anything is wrong with it?" Hermione snapped at him with such force he stepped back and nodded his head without another word.

"Specialis Revelio!" Hermione tapped the book with her wand, hoping against hope that nothing would happen.

It just laid in her hands as book like as ever.

"It seems all right," Hermione said as she handed it back to Harry.

Hahahahahahaha! Score! Score! Score! Oh stupid score! Hermione had to force herself not to smile to herself as she made an excuse to use the bathroom. Hermione locked herself in a stall, making sure that Moaning Myrtle was no where in sight. She pulled out her potions book and with a flick of her wrist, spidery scribble began forming on the page around the text already there.

A/N: Nice long chapter. Yes this is SNAPE and Hermione. Even though he hasn't been in the story much, he will be. Lots of snape actually in the next chapter. Also don't expect many different points of view. I'll only do that when I feel that it will speed up the story or in some rare cases make it more drawn out. I basically stole a scene straight from HBP and wrote it to fit my story. Expect a lot of that as this is going to go through her second year, though I'll be condensing and skipping things and then we've got trips to India and a whole section where she runs into trouble and then the big scene. You don't know what the scene is yet, but you will. In about...ummm...I guess around chapter 15 you'll be able to guess the big scene if we don't come to it before then.

Thanks to my reviewers. All of you. I only need nine more before chapter ten. If I don't get them I'm stopping the story.


End file.
